


Hum Along

by BlueColoredDreams



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gratuitous use of song lyrics, Growing Up Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3211781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueColoredDreams/pseuds/BlueColoredDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was never quiet between them: They started trading songs like notes, because it was easier to give the other a song than be brave enough, mature enough, to say the things that were hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hum Along

**Author's Note:**

> So fun story: This is actually the first fic I wrote for this pairing (not the first for the fandom; that's still unfinished). I also wrote a good chunk of it kind of sort of maybe drunk back at Thanksgiving based off of a vague headcanon that I don't actually remember thinking of or where I even got the idea (I wanna say there's similar hc's on the nsfw hq blog), but it was probably more of an "oh I bet they're dorks and lip sync songs together". It kind of got put in beta-editing limbo because I asked for betas (since it was my first finished fic in years and you know, drunk writing) and I got offers but I never got back anything after initial correspondences (I'm not sure if tumblr ate my replies to them or what and I'm too chicken to bug people, but THANK YOU TO THE PEOPLE THAT OFFERED, sorry I'm impatient!!!), so I just decided why the hell not, to go ahead and post it. It seemed like a waste to let it languish away on my hard drive until I got so embarrassed about it that I'd never post it.  
> Song list at the end.

It’s dark outside and Kei’s bedroom is lit by the light coming from the soft glow of the speaker and dock for the iPod, music masking the quiet sounds of rustling sheets and their harsh breathing. They’re supposed to be sleeping or studying, but neither of them felt much like studying, and despite being exhausted from the day’s practice, neither of them felt like sleeping either.

_“I could only be myself with you around  
Oh, with you around—”_

The words stream out from the speaker, filling the dim room with their melody. The words over the track are in English, but he’s used to that by now, and he tips his head back as Kei mouths the lyrics against his neck. He actually _knows_ this one, it’s one of Kei’s new favorites, and as he arches and gasps, he mouths the words right back at the blond as Kei looks up at him:

_“You stepped with a heavy tread,_   
_And left your mark_   
_Oh, oh, oh_   
_Your mark on me…”_

It earns him a wry grin and Kei slides up his body and rewards him with a kiss, and the music falls to the background of Tadashi’s consciousness as they move up against each other.

He’s not really sure when this habit of theirs started, exactly. Probably when they were kids, he thinks.

Yeah, it definitely started then, when they still were a bit awkward with each other and hadn’t fallen into their comfortable routines and their odd habits yet.

Tadashi doesn’t think Kei even realizes he never does anything in complete silence. Kei might not talk much when they’re out and about, but it is _never_ quiet around him. Tadashi’s either talking, or the music fills the silence with a quiet hiss of noise from his headphones, even if they’re not situated on his ears. There’s always something in the background, some sort of white noise going.

When they first started visiting each other’s houses, Kei’s music distracted Tadashi; he tapped his pencil when he was supposed to be doing math, he wrote lyrics instead of his corrections on English homework, he hummed instead of reading.

He didn’t know how the taller boy could stand it until he saw Kei and Akiteru interact: it was an endless stream of noise between them, back and forth, and Tadashi understands that the music fills up the silence of Kei waiting for his brother. So he gets used to it; he learns how to tap his pencil so that it’s doing sums while he is and keep the beat, to work in the English songs that occasionally come up into his work, and how to hum and read and sing under his breath all at the same time. When Kei visits him, Tadashi produces a small portable speaker that Kei can hook up to his player so the room isn’t quiet.

They share their tastes with each other: Tadashi likes what’s on the radio, what’s played on TV, youtube covers, and his parent’s music. Kei likes Western bands whose lyrics are in English that Tadashi can barely understand, bands that are quiet and make Tadashi feel like the words are boats floating in the sea, and he likes music his brother left on the beat-up iPod when Kei inherited it. The only things they have in common are anime songs and movie soundtracks. They share CDs, and Kei painstakingly fills up Tadashi’s old clunky computer with music he can play when he visits and his iPod dies. Tadashi shyly looks up lyrics so he can understand the ones in English and hum along to the ones that aren’t.

When they reach the last quarter of their fifth year of elementary school, Kei’s taste in music changes: He still likes an odd assortment of music that Tadashi’s never even heard of, but the music is louder, the vocals stronger; it no longer feels like the sort of music that floats along, but the type that fills Tadashi with the urge to move and talk and scream. The lyrics become more personal; Kei is no longer waiting for his brother, and the music he listens to reflects that.

Kei wants to move, but he can’t, so he lets the music do it for him.

The songs that Kei plays throughout the rest of elementary school and junior high tell Tadashi just as much about his mood as his face does, and Tadashi counters the angry songs with ones he finds that are soothing and encouraging, filling Kei’s iPod when he’s visiting with songs that let him know that Tadashi’s still there, and that things will be alright.

Kei lets these songs play with an odd look on his face, and Tadashi finds himself mouthing the lyrics as if he were the one speaking them. He lets the songs tell Kei the things that Tadashi wants to say, but is too shy to; he does it until Kei finally starts snickering. Then he starts laughing too, and Kei doubles over the small folding desk they do their homework at, finally, _finally,_ breaking the quiet, strained air that’s hovered around them since Akiteru’s game, and **_that’s_** when it starts:

They take turns from then on, picking songs and mouthing the words to each other, trading the iPod back and forth like an exchange diary. For his birthday that year, Kei gives Tadashi the password to his Apple account, a spare charging cord, and gift card. It’s probably the best present Tadashi’s ever gotten and he nearly strangles Kei with the resulting hug the gift produces.

They start making playlists for each other after that, every song carefully chosen to convey things that they don’t have the maturity or words or confidence to say to each other.  

Sometimes, the songs they choose are serious, taking the places of conversations they can’t bring themselves to have:

_“It’s time to stop daydreaming; I have to get ready soon (crying)_   
_But first I have to hide the evidence of my tears_   
_Saying “Oh, well” has become my habit,_   
_The words I heard come to mind:_   
_‘I have no expectations from you anymore’_   
_Well, I don’t expect anything from myself either, but…”_

comes when Tadashi’s feeling down and alone and wishing he hadn’t heard his classmates being snide about him ( _‘When’s he going to realize that blond kid doesn’t like him?’ ‘He’s like a pathetic dog or something.’ ‘What does he expect to happen? He’s gonna get dumped.’_ ). He feels stupid for letting it get to him, but sometimes he wonders the exact same things. Kei is cold and prickly and blunt, but he’s also smart and talented and everything that Tadashi _isn’t_ and it’s _so_ easy to imagine Kei getting tired of him. He covers his head with his hands as the song plays, unwilling to look over at his friend.

Kei replies by standing and grabbing his iPod from the speaker, thumb moving as he scowls and scrolls through all 32GB of ever-revolving, ever-changing music. His glasses slide down his nose as Tadashi looks up to watch him curiously, but Kei doesn’t bother to fix them yet. He finally settles on a song and sets the device back onto the speaker stand, and the song starts, something energetic and staticky like an old radio, fizzing in and out before the melody proper come in and the singing starts up.

_“Everything I do is bittersweet  
You could tell me secrets that I'll probably repeat...”_

Kei sits back down, lips pursed as he stares down stubbornly at his homework. Tadashi tips his head, listening closely to the lyrics, not really understanding why Kei picked this particular song. Maybe he’s not picking up on the English meanings correctly—he’s much slower than Kei with this sort of thing. He’s about to ask why this particular one, when he hears:

_“It's such a mystery why you're here (but I can't live without you)_   
_And you became as clear as cellophane_   
_My voice of reasoning_   
_I don't think I can take the way you make me out to be…”_

Kei says the last line aloud in Japanese, his voice just a bit louder than the song as he makes a point of glaring a hole into his worksheet, cheeks pink. 

Tadashi blinks and a laugh bubbles up in his throat and he tosses an eraser over at Kei. “That’s _so_ cheesy,” he giggles, feeling his cheeks turn pink as well. “ _Lame_ ,” he teases, ducking as Kei chunks the eraser back at him. Soon they’re flinging pencils and pens, and Tadashi snatches a pillow from behind him and throws it, diving under the table to dodge its return.

They’re reduced to laughing, grumbling messes, homework and worries forgotten as the music shuffles in the background. They’re still giggling and sniping at each other, laid out on the floor, heads under the folding desk when Kei’s mother cracks the door and scolds them for not finishing their work even though she’s smiling fondly at the two of them, because she’s been worried about Kei ever since Akiteru’s third year of high school and her younger son grew prickly and reticent.

When they’re nearing their second year of junior high, on Akiteru’s twentieth birthday, Kei puts on music after he and Tadashi have slunk upstairs after the party:

_“The memories hold; they're overgrown._   
_But now I know, there's no climbing over:_   
_Because I know you'll never see me through…”_

Kei’s room is dark, and the noise downstairs has faded and Kei’s been silent all night. Tadashi worries that it’s too much for his friend, because ever since Akiteru’s gone off to college, Kei’s been a bit brighter, a bit more like how he was before the end of their fifth year of elementary school, when the world halted. But that blank-eyed look had come back, and they’d been lying quietly in the dark, no music or words until Kei started that song.

The silence had pushed up into Tadashi and crawled under his skin, and it hurts him because it means that Kei has had nothing to say—it’s been wiped out of him all together, and he can’t stand that. Kei always, always has _something_ to say, regardless of whether it’s appropriate or not: this is the only subject that Kei can’t even process to speak about, and it _hurts._ The start of the song means that Kei’s finally sorted his thoughts, has something to say, and it doesn’t matter that the song is in English, Tadashi knows what it says is important, so he listens hard and tries to pick out the words.  

_“Well, I can feel my heart pressing down on me…”_

Tadashi rolls over and looks up at Kei, who’s outlined in the dark by the bright glow of the iPod in his hands, face impassive. Kei lets the player fall onto his bed, watching it until it goes dark.

Tadashi crawls out of the guest futon and onto Kei’s bed. They sit across from each other in the dark, knees touching with the iPod between them on the sheets. The song repeats as they sit there, staring at the iPod like it’s a dead thing, leaning forward until their foreheads touch in the dark, and suddenly they’re kissing and grasping at each other’s hands.

Neither of them finds it all that surprising as they press their mouths together; this is something they’ve been building towards for months now. They’ve been passing songs between them like other kids pass notes, building playlist after playlist of songs that spoke of longing and love in place of spoken confessions, hoping that the other would understand.

_“It's getting to the edge of what could be  
I can't fight it off, I can't fight it off…” _

Kei’s glasses press into Tadashi’s cheeks and their teeth bump awkwardly, and neither of them knows when to breathe, but they try it anyway as the song plays over and over until they’re wrapped around each other under the covers of the bed, Kei’s fingers tight in Tadashi’s shirt. He curls himself around Tadashi, face pressed into the smaller boy’s hair, the fabric of his friend’s shirt bunched into his fingers; he could never quite articulate it, but he needs Tadashi in his life, but he’s so afraid to try anything because he doesn’t want to lose it.

He’s not sure what would happen to him if he lost Tadashi too, because Tadashi is the only one who can warm his heart and make him smile. What they’ve just done scares him, because you don’t just kiss your friends, but at the same time Tadashi isn’t his friend, it’s _Tadashi_. But he’s terrified, because he _can’t_ lose Tadashi like he lost his brother, to piled up adoration and expectations and his awkward love. Tadashi protects him just like Akiteru did, and he doesn’t want that, he doesn’t want Tadashi to continue to hold his hand and lead him away from the things that he doesn’t want to see anymore. He feels himself shake with the effort of clinging onto the other boy and he pushes his face a little deeper into Tadashi’s hair, hoping he can convey this without words. 

Tadashi holds onto Kei just as tightly, knowing just how deeply the other aches because of what happened with his brother. He’s glad he can provide some sort of comfort and stability and he knows Kei’s chosen the song not just because of how he felt about Akiteru, but because of what he wanted from Tadashi. Tadashi is more than happy to oblige him; he’s been waiting and hoping for this for a while now.  He’ll easily give Kei whatever the other wants.

After that night, the songs they listen to change subtly. They still listen to obnoxiously catchy anime songs, Tadashi humming and mouthing along to his favorite parts, grinning as Kei taps his fingers to the beat of the song and complains about the Top 40 songs Tadashi puts on their playlists. Kei still listens to his weird Western music that Tadashi has to listen hard to in order to pick up some of the lyrics (‘Practice your English more,’ is Kei’s standard reply to requests to repeat songs). They still do their homework on opposite sides of the folding desk that is getting too small for them-- they don’t mind outgrowing it a bit, because it’s an excuse for their knees to touch, for their feet to hook against each other, for their hands to brush as they reach for a dictionary or a calculator.  But now, some of the songs they share with each other are more serious, chosen carefully to give the other the feelings they never quite articulated in the first place.

They never do say things like, ‘I like you’ or ‘I want your company’; that’s just not for them, and it takes too much effort, too much bravery to say things like that. But that’s okay. They’re sure they’ll get there one day, and they do. 

Sometimes, rather than just lip sync along with the music, they get brave and sing along. It’s easier than being bold enough to speak, at least.

The first time it happens, Tadashi laughs until he cries, stomach sore and face hot. He hiccups and pants, trying to gain his composure as Kei glares at him, and breaks into another fit of giggles.

“Why are you absolutely tone deaf?” he finally wheezes, reaching out to grab Kei’s hands in his own. “You can’t sing at all, oh my god, _Tsukki_.” He hiccups again, sniggering as he watches Kei turn beet red and angry, amber eyes sharp and embarrassed. “It’s _perfect_ —you listen to so much music, but you can’t carry a tune! It’s so cute, Tsukki, **_oh man_** —!”

He shouldn’t be laughing, because it _was_ sweet, and the song was good, and _oh boy_ , he’d laughed at Kei in the face while Kei was basically singing a confession to him, but he couldn’t help it at all. He loves it so much, that they’ve known each other for so long now, but there’s always something new to find out about Kei: almost fourteen years old, closet paleontologist, middle blocker, 186.5 centimeters tall and **_still_** growing, shortcake lover, and music enthusiast who cannot sing to save his life. He gathers these things and holds them close, the words of the song that play in his own heart.

He leans forward and squeezes Kei’s hands tightly as he steals a kiss. “Sorry, Tsukki,” he laughs. “That was really nice of you.”

“It’d be nicer if you shut up,” Kei mutters, trying to yank his hands away.

Tadashi shakes his head and stands, tugging Kei up with him as the song rolls over on repeat. He’d been laughing too hard to really hear the lyrics, but he’d caught their basic meaning before Kei sent him into hysterics. Maybe he’s giddy from laughing so hard, or from realizing what Kei was asking of him; normally this isn’t the sort of thing that they would do—their relationship was less bubbly, sweet feelings and more subdued with quiet passing looks and traded songs, but Tadashi feels like what Kei was proposing with the song was something that’s absolutely perfect. “Let’s do it, then,” he says.

“No,” Kei says grumpily, looking away from Tadashi.

Tadashi steps over their homework and bookbags, leaning his chin against Kei’s chest. “ _Yes_ , you asked,” he laughs, looking up at the blond. He tips his head and listens intently, repeating the words in Japanese, “ _’Cause lovers dance when they’re feeling in love_ ’, right?”

Kei makes a noise in the back of his throat and Tadashi laughs as the taller teen finally ascents and frees one of his hands to put it on Tadashi’s waist. Tadashi slings an arm around Kei’s shoulder and they both laugh as they awkwardly move around the room in something they feel resembles a dance.

 Maybe they’re too old to be doing something silly like this, but it’s fun; Tadashi leads even though it’s Kei who’s taller, dragging the blonde in a slow circle as they sway along to the beat of the song. They stumble and step on each other and kick over their homework, and at one point nearly knock over Kei’s lamp, but they keep at it until they’re sick of the song’s melody.

“So…” Tadashi says slowly after they’ve stopped dancing and have collapsed onto Kei’s bed, laughing at Tadashi’s horrible English and Kei’s cheesy choices in songs. He’s laid out atop his friend despite Kei’s complaints that he’s too heavy (he knows he’s not, and Kei’s complaining for the sake of it) and thinking over what he could remember of the song’s meaning. “Does that mean you love me?” he asks, turning a delighted shade of pink.

“ _Shut up_ , Yamaguchi,” Kei grumbles, face turning red. He reaches out and picks up a book from his bedside table, opening it and covering his face with it. Tadashi knows Kei’s not even reading: the book is upside down and he knows for a fact that Kei finished the book a few weeks ago because he got to hear every complaint about the science in it ( _‘Stop reading bad sci-fi then, Tsukki’ ‘No’_ went the conversation).

“But Tsukki,” Tadashi whines, “You’ve never said it before, and I was laughing.”

“That’s your fault, isn’t it?”

“It’s yours,” Tadashi says firmly, reaching up to push the upside down book aside. “Your singing was bad.”

“Not as bad as your English,” Kei retorts, earning a kicked-puppy pout from Tadashi and he groans, knowing Tadashi’s pulling that face on purpose because the other boy _knows_ Kei can’t stand it. It’s underhanded, he thinks, and he adores it. He covers his face with his hands, mumbling into his palms, “I do, now _shut up_.”

“Sorry, Tsukki, but I can’t hear you,” Tadashi protests, grabbing at Kei’s wrists as he tries not to laugh. He can see Kei’s pink face through the boy’s fingers and he desperately wants to hear what he’d only heard before through songs, and he wants to hear it unmuffled. He’s hungry for it, he realizes, to hear Kei say it with his own voice. He squeezes at Kei’s wrists, “Please, Tsukki?” he pleads. When he’s met with more grumbling and stubborn silence he makes a bitten-off sound of desperation; he _needs_ to hear this. The ferocity of this need is almost startling. “Please, Kei, _please_ ,” he begs. “Say it for me again?”

The blonde’s breath snags in his throat briefly in surprise. “I said I love you, _okay_ ,” Kei snaps without any heat, looking pointedly over Tadashi’s shoulder once the slighter boy had pulled his hands away. He could feel his ears burning, and was satisfied to see Tadashi flush brilliantly out of the corner of his eye. “Are you satisfied?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Tadashi says, voice hitching. He leans forward and drops all of his weight into Kei, arms wedging their way under the blond so he could hold on tightly. Kei sighs and wraps his arms around Tadashi, eyes fluttering closed as Tadashi nuzzles into him like an overgrown cat, his quiet ‘me too, me too, **_so_** much, I love you too’ stringing together into an incoherent chorus of affection.

“Next time, **_you_** sing,” Kei commands as he reaches a hand up to curl into Tadashi’s hair to still him. The way Tadashi laughs against his ear tells Kei that when that happens, he’ll be an absolute goner (as if he wasn’t already). “And practice your English so I don’t have to repeat myself.”

They move around each other like that for the rest of junior high, picking and choosing songs instead of date plans and texts. Kei doesn’t find this weird or strange, even when members of their junior high volleyball club start dating girls from other schools and talk about their relationships during warm ups.

Going on dates, talking about feelings, confessions… those are things for other people, other couples, Kei thinks. It’s a whole lot of effort, that stuff, and he’s never much thought about it because he’s happy with what he shares with Tadashi. 

But he watches as Tadashi talks to the club’s manager, another third-year girl who’s started dating their vice-captain, the right-wing spiker, a few weeks previously, and her cheeks are pink. She laughs, gesturing over at the boy and Tadashi looks thoughtful. Kei meets Tadashi’s eye, and the boy beams at him and something catches in Kei’s chest and he wonders if maybe he _should_ put forth some effort into Tadashi. But what they have is good, and he doesn’t want it to be ruined, and he doesn’t want it to hurt too badly if it doesn’t work, if they end up parting ways, if his expectations and devotion end up breaking Tadashi like they broke Akiteru.

“Say,” he says as they walk home from practice, “What were you and Hanato talking about?”

“Oh? Just about her and Kazuma-san. She asked if I knew where boys liked to go for dates,” Tadashi answers with a shrug. He looks up at Kei curiously, “Why? I never thought you were all that interested in other people’s conversations.”

“I’m not,” Kei snaps, feeling himself blush.  He clears his throat and pushes his hands into his pockets; he doesn’t want to have this conversation in words—or have it at all, but Tadashi’s raising his eyebrow in that way that Kei knows that Tadashi knows that something is up. He doesn’t have the words for it, and he definitely doesn’t have a song, so he just lets the silence ring in his ears for a moment before sighing. “And you said…?”

Tadashi shrugs at this and kicks at a rock on the sidewalk. “I told her that I didn’t know,” he says simply. “Since I don’t go on dates.”

“Do you want to?”

Tadashi blinks and turns pink at the blunt question. Kei stops and stares at him, until Tadashi is stammering out an answer. “I… well, _no_ ,” Tadashi finally says, shaking his head emphatically. “Not really. I like what we do already,” he adds, steadily blushing harder until it looks like he has sunburn.

Kei lets out a sigh, not really willing to admit that he’s horribly relieved at this information. “It doesn’t bother you, then?”

Tadashi shakes his head, “Um. It’s like, it’s like… ah… Well, it… it’s like,” he says hesitantly, making small hand gestures in the air in front of him, sighing in frustration when the words wouldn’t come out.

Kei raises an eyebrow at this, inclining his head slightly as he waits. “Spit it out, Yamaguchi,” he mutters after a few more seconds of Tadashi’s fumbling voice.

Tadashi wrinkles his nose and steps forward, plunging his hand into Kei’s pocket, pushing his fingers past Kei’s hand, prying the blond’s iPod out of his curled fingers. “This, it’s like this!” he said, thumbing through the songs, until he found the one he was looking for.

“What?”

“Just listen, okay?” Tadashi pleads, tucking the player into his own pocket. He leans onto his toes and takes Kei’s headphones into his hands, sliding them up and over his friend’s ears. His ears are burning with embarrassment, because he’s never done anything like this before. The iPod is normally passed back and forth between them, and he’s never once touched Kei’s headphones before—he’s never had to, because they either use a speaker or a splitter. In its own way, it’s more intimate than how they kiss and hold hands over their homework, and he knows exactly why he doesn’t want to go on dates with Kei. A date would literally kill him, because he can barely be this close to Kei, looking up at him in full light without his heart basically exploding.

He waits for Kei to acknowledge the song, to say something, anything, because he really wants to step away and hand back the iPod, because now his heart is doing weird flip-flops in the back of his throat. It’s never this bad even when Kei’s mouthing songs against lips instead of kissing him, or when Kei’s hand is in his hair, because Tadashi’s not waiting, not looking, can’t see the flutter of the blond’s eyelashes as he blinks and looks down at him, can’t see the soft pink places on Kei’s skin where his glasses press against his nose, can’t hear their breath in the silence because there’s always, always music behind them. All Tadashi can hear is his heart and their breathing and the calls of birds; somewhere a few streets away, kids are shouting happily and a dog barks, and Tadashi keeps waiting.

Kei says nothing, staring down at Tadashi as the song plays, very conscious of how close they’re standing, the way that Tadashi has to lean forward and up to keep his hands on the headphones, his forearms pressing against his chest and it’s so different from when they’re in their rooms, pressing their arms together as they sit side by side to play video games, or even when they’re leaning forward to kiss or huddling under the covers to laugh at each other, and he very much wants to reach out and grab onto Tadashi. But it looks like the poor kid’s heart was about to give up on him, and Kei’s fairly sure his own heart would too if he did that, so he doesn’t. It’s not easy and comforting like this and it makes him so nervous.

He tries to focus on the words and not how Tadashi’s chewing on his lip nervously, or the way his hair is growing out from that awful haircut he got a few weeks ago that made his cowlick stand out even more than usual or how the sun is setting and lighting up Tadashi’s face just so and he can count every freckle on the boy’s face, and they’re just standing in the middle of the sidewalk, and everyone could see them…

_“‘Cause when I walk your feet,_   
_They fall to the same beat;_   
_Or maybe we’re from two different worlds,_   
_But we got our own language!_   
_We talk to people, but they never understand!_   
_They think we’re crazy ‘cause it sounds like noise_   
_When we’re speaking in our native tongue…”_

Kei just blinks as the song keeps playing. He wants to do something about the warm feeling bubbling up in his chest and throat, wants to do something about the way Tadashi is staring expectantly up at him, wants to do something about how Tadashi’s hands are shaking slightly against his headphones, but all he can do is stare back at the boy in front of him. He swallows as the song winds down; he reaches up and grabs Tadashi’s hands and lowers them from the headphones. He keeps one hand in his own, releasing the other so he can pull the headphones down around his neck as another song starts up and winds through the air, tinny and small and quiet. “I see,” he says quietly.

He squeezes Tadashi’s hand tightly. ‘ _Your voice brought me back from the dead_ ’, the song said, but Tadashi’s always been vibrant and alive, and it’s Kei who’s dead and he knows it: Tadashi is the only bright, alive thing in his life with the way his face lights up and his eyes crinkle and how he always found something to say even in the quietest, hardest times. And all he can do is give him songs and squeeze his hand tightly as Tadashi grins up at him, trotting beside him happily, and not wanting more at all. He doesn’t know what he’ll do when Tadashi wants more than this, because he’s not sure whether or not he has it in him to give it to Tadashi, no matter how much he might want to.

It’s not long until he finds out. And he _hates_ it.

“Say, Tsukki,” Tadashi says, slumped over his notes and the study booklet for Karasuno’s entrance exam. Kei looks over his shoulder from his desk (they are now both far too tall to cram themselves at the small folding table they’d been using all these years, and it’s sad, but it’s necessary), watching curiously as Tadashi pushes his pencil around on the paper thoughtfully. “Why aren’t you taking any of the other entrance exams?”

“Because I don’t need to,” Kei says simply, turning back to his own materials. They’ve had this conversation several times in the past month: Tadashi’s parents have talked him into taking into at least three other exams for high schools around the prefecture, despite Tadashi’s insistence that he wanted to go to Karasuno with Kei. It’s running Tadashi ragged, and Kei is beginning to feel Tadashi’s absence from him—there’s not as many poppy songs on his iPod, and he falls asleep early every time he’s allowed to come over (under the pretext of ‘studying’), head lolling against Kei’s chest as they watch poor quality movies on his laptop. They’ve both had to retire from the volleyball team to even be able to fit anything that resembles free time into their schedules, not that it does anything.

Tadashi makes a quiet noise as he continues to push his pencil around. He knows Kei doesn’t need to study at all, and is only making a passing effort to help him with the other exams. Tadashi doesn’t need to study much for Karasuno, either, and only needs to brush up on his English for the exam, but the other schools are far more rigorous. They make him feel slightly slow and sticky in his head; he wishes, vaguely, that Kei would help him a bit more, make struggling through the exams a bit more fun. He sighs.

He misses being able to go to practice and being able to find new songs to present to Kei, and being able to stay awake and snuggle into the taller boy. “If you tried, you could probably get into Shiratorizawa,” he says softly. “You’re smart, Tsukki. They have a good volleyball program too.”

“I’d have to study,” Kei replies, clicking his tongue. “And then I’d have to study and work all three years. There’s no point,” he continues, shrugging. “I’d have to try out for the team, too.”

“Is that why you want to go to Karasuno?” Tadashi asks, looking up from his idle pencil-pushing. “So you don’t have to try to get anywhere?”

Kei doesn’t answer, and simply shrugs. He turns in his chair, grabbing the iPod so he can change the song—he doesn’t much feel like listening to the anime theme song that just came on. “There’s that.”

“…Are you doing it to spite Akiteru-kun?” Tadashi asks after a moment, sitting up to study Kei carefully. He’d been wondering for a while, ever since they had to fill out the forms for their guidance counselors.  He’d known that since elementary school, Kei wanted to go to Karasuno, but he’d assumed that Kei would have reconsidered since what happened with Akiteru. He watches Kei’s face harden and he swallows, knowing he was right. “To go and do what he couldn’t, without having to try for it?”

“So what if I am? People who try too hard are wasting their time,” he says offhandedly.  “If nii-san realizes he wasted our time and his too, then that’s fine by me.”    

Tadashi makes a noise that startles Kei; it sounds strangled and angry and heartbroken, and he’s never heard anything like it from Tadashi, ever, and he doesn’t want to. Tadashi’s standing now, gathering his things and stuffing them in his bag, cheeks pink and eyes overflowing with tears, and Kei doesn’t understand why this revelation upsets Tadashi so much.

“That’s just—Tsukki that’s just _mean_ ,” Tadashi says in frustration, jamming his study packet into his bag, tears splashing down his face.

Kei hasn’t seen Tadashi cry since… since—well he can’t remember when, it’s been that long. He stares at his friend, brow furrowing as he tries to find the right thing to say. Yeah, he supposes in its own way, it _is_ mean, wanting to show his own brother up without even trying, but that’s just what it is. Wasn’t what Akiteru did needlessly cruel as well? Didn’t he deserve getting shown up by his baby brother for that?

“It’s nasty and mean and spiteful,” Tadashi continues, twisting up the jacket he’d discarded when they’d started studying so he could push it into his bag. “And what about those of us who _have_ to try here?” he snaps, looking up at Kei, whose face is twisted into a nasty sneer that makes his heart sink and his stomach lurch.  “Do you think _I’m_ wasting my time, too? That _I_ won’t get anywhere? Do you look down on _me_ too? That’s awful and rude and cold.”

Kei feels the shock set in on him in the same sort of cold way that it had during that game in elementary school. “You’ve always known what sort of person I am,” he says without really realizing what words are falling from his lips, “So it’s not my problem you’re upset now.”

He thought Tadashi of all people would understand, because Tadashi _always_ understands _everything_ , but he can tell by the look on the boy’s face that he _doesn’t_ , and Kei doesn’t know how to make Tadashi understand if he’s been beside him for all this time and still doesn’t get it. He wonders if he’s done it again, and broken someone by expecting too much from them.

Tadashi clenches his teeth and hangs his head, hands falling limp against his sides. Kei can see his lips trembling as Tadashi struggles to hold back his tears, but for the life of him, Kei doesn’t know what to do about it. He could try to make it better, but he doesn’t think he _can—_ and what if he just makes it worse again?— so he sits back at his desk, watching in a sort of blank horror as Tadashi stands there and cries.

Tadashi’s sobs are loud and shuddering and ugly, all noises and scrunching face, and Kei does nothing. He’s frozen there, just staring, heart twisting in his chest.

It’s not after Tadashi gives him a strangled apology and leaves does Kei realize he didn’t refute that he was looking down on Tadashi. He’s not sure what disturbs him more—the fact that that’s what Tadashi thinks, or the fact that he _had_ been silently wondering why Tadashi was even trying with other exams. It’s not that Kei thinks Tadashi will fail them, exactly… but he’s always just assumed that Tadashi would do the best he could to follow Kei. And it’s not as if Karasuno’s test is hard.

He sits at his desk, tapping his pencil against his papers, staring at his phone for the rest of the night. He finally gets up and takes a shower and resolves to text Tadashi about what happened.

 

 

 

> **From: Tsukki✩**   
>  **you get home ok?**   
>  **23:25**
> 
> **From: Yamaguchi Tadashi**   
>  **yeah & sorry tsukki!! (｡≧Д≦｡);;**   
>  **23:27**
> 
> **From: Tsukki** **✩**  
>  **?**  
>  **23:28**  
>   
>  **From: Yamaguchi Tadashi**  
>  **i overreacted i think**  
>  **it’s ok if that’s why you want to go to karasuno**  
>  **i was just stressed about all these tests ahhh ヾ ( ๑ ´д` ๑ ) ﾂ**  
>  **23:32**  
>   
>  **From: Tsukki✩**  
>  **it’s fine**  
>  **23:32**
> 
> **From: Tsukki✩**   
>  **Attatchment: ‘comfortingsounds.mp3’**   
>  **23:38**
> 
> **From: Yamaguchi Tadashi**   
>  **so long!!! almost fell asleep here www (ι´Д｀)ﾉ**   
>  **23:49**
> 
> **From: Tsukki✩**   
>  **then go to bed**   
>  **23:50**
> 
> **From: Yamaguchi Tadashi**   
>  **noo i had to listen to it!! since you sent it!!**   
>  **i'm glad you’re not mad at me**   
>  **we’ll both go to karasuno and have lots of fun ok???**   
>  **23:55**
> 
> **From: Tsukki** **✩**  
>  **go to bed**  
>  **23:56**
> 
> **From: Yamaguchi Tadashi**   
>  **www goodnight tsukki ( ≧ ε ≦)**   
>  **23:57**
> 
> **From: Tsukki** **✩**  
>  **night tadashi**  
>  **0:00**
> 
> **From: Yamaguchi Tadashi  
>  ♥♥♥♥!!!!!!**   
>  **0:01**

And Kei thinks it’s the end of that—that they’ll go back to normal, but they don’t. They still bump up against each other as they walk, still spend their time gravitating around each other, but Kei starts to feel uneasy in his own skin as the new term comes closer. Nerves, his mother says, but it’s not that—yeah, he does dread having to tell everyone under the sun that, _no,_ his name is _not_ ‘Hotaru’ _thank you very much_ — it has more to do with the sinking feeling he gets every time he looks at the new uniform hanging up in his closet or the new student packet that came in the mail.

It has to do with the way that when Tadashi talks to him, he can’t think of anything to say even when the conversation is just meaningless chatter; it has to do with the way that he can’t find any songs to send to Tadashi and how Tadashi’s slowed down with his own selections, and how they’re both busy now and actually have to do their homework and study instead of rushing through it so they could goof off. It has everything to do with the fact that Tadashi doesn’t tell him the results of his other entrance exams, even though he _knows_ that Tadashi’s passed them because his mother tells him so and to pass along her congratulations (he assumes Tadashi’s mother told her, but he doesn’t know)—he doesn’t, because he doesn’t want to acknowledge the awkward pauses in their conversations, how they’ve only kissed once or twice since then, and how Tadashi’s been shy and hesitant each time in a way that screams self-doubt rather than his normal pleased embarrassment.

They start high school like this, side-by-side in their new uniforms and matching bags that had been a joint gag gift from both of their families, with a nervous Tadashi who walks two steps behind Kei at all times and is quieter and more unsure than the boy Kei has become so used to him being, vibrant and bright and laughing, and with a black taste against the back of Kei’s tongue that matches the color of their new uniforms.

It continues like this for months, until Kei has a hard time believing that he and Tadashi ever did trade songs like love notes and swung around each other in his room until their stomachs hurt from laughing. It feels surreal, just like the memories of watching Akiteru play volleyball back in elementary school.

In fact, when he looks at Tadashi, all Kei can see is his brother now.

The image of his brother on his hands and knees on the floor has burned itself so deeply into Kei’s brain that he sees it everywhere, in everyone, every time he looks at his teammates: it’s in the way that Sugawara squares his shoulders on the sidelines; it’s in the clench of Azumane’s jaw; in the stubborn, arrogant, awkward way that Kageyama approaches everything. It’s in all of them, and it’s in him too, because he’s made of that failure, but _oh, god_ , it’s in _Tadashi_ most of all.

Tadashi’s the only first year who doesn’t play, and it bothers Tadashi more than he’ll ever admit to anyone, especially _not_ to Kei (not now, at least; maybe he would have before), and Kei doesn’t understand _why_. He doesn’t ask, either, because he knows he’ll make Tadashi cry again if he does. All he can think about is how he’s led them both, Tadashi and Akiteru, into a pit of self-doubt and failed efforts that they’re desperate to claw their way out of.

So he lets Tadashi part ways with him halfway home to go to the Shimadamart, wondering if all the effort Tadashi’s putting in would even be worth it. It’s not like he’d get to play in a game anytime soon—hell, the only reason Kei’s  on the lineup himself is because he’s tall. He’s aware of this, because he’s not particularly great at anything other than blocking and tracking other players. It doesn’t bother him like he figures it would bother Tadashi, or any of the other volleyball-crazed weirdoes on the team. It’s just a fact, like that they breathe air and that the sun shines. There’s nothing to be done about it. He’s tall, so he’s on the line up. Tadashi’s tall, but not as tall as Kei, so he’s not. The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.

He has no idea what’s wrong with all of them—they all act like a high school club is the Olympics, and they’re going to all burn themselves out early. And then where will they be? Nowhere. That too is a fact: Try too hard, and you fail. And it _will_ hurt. Effort does not overcome genius. Effort does not overcome luck. Eukaryotes have a nucleus.

 He clamps his headphones on over his ears as he watches Tadashi go, eyes tracing over the way the club jersey drapes over his thin shoulders, and he wants to run to Tadashi and shake him and scream.

_“Discommunication,_   
_My wandering thoughts eat at me,_   
_Killing me without any mercy…”_

He’s seen him practice: he’s seen Tadashi do the jump float serve in the gym when they’re doing small group practice and it almost _never_ works. He’s seen it over and over, the way Tadashi’s face screws up and he sets his shoulders and it drives Kei crazy. He wants to grab him and make him stopthis _, stop hurting yourself like this, stop it’s not **worth** it _ and it startles him, the ferocity behind this feeling, and he wonders just how much he wants to say the same thing to himself when it hurts this badly.

 _Just stop loving him. It hurts too much. Just stop. It hurts. Just let him go, let him go, I don’t want him to go,  I don’t want him to hurt, stop, stop, stop, why, why is it the same as before, why, why,  why, **stop**.  _ But he can’t, he doesn’t, because both options are too much effort—it would take twice as long to stop loving Tadashi as it did to love him in the first place, and he doesn’t even know how he could start to fix the things he’s broken just by wanting too much.

_“Discommunication,_   
_Though I know my song won't reach you_   
_On this one-way street, I will still sing it…”_

He wonders why he’s doing this to himself: dragging himself out of bed early to go to practice, doing drills, putting up with raging idiots, putting with up wearing the same uniform his brother forfeited because nothing was enough, listening to Hinata wax rhapsodic about the same player that ousted his brother and took his light all those years ago, watching Tadashi try and try and try and fail… He’s not sure why he’s doing it, because it sure as hell isn’t worth it if he’s just doing it to be stubborn and push it into Akiteru’s face. It’s not worth putting this much work into a team that can’t keep their heads together, for a team that hasn’t won a tournament in years, but still hungers for the things that they can’t get.

He never thought they’d be some prodigy team, and rise up from the ashes of their defeat, because that sort of thing is ridiculous, but it still _hurts_ when they lose in the Inter High, and it hurts even more so when he can’t bring himself to look at Tadashi afterwards. Tadashi, whose serve is at best, luck of the draw, and at worst, some wild-off-course thing that makes even Hinata’s worst serve look great, who’s never been on the court for a real game—not even in junior high—gets called as a pinch server, like he’s some hero in a story, and it _fails_.

 _And he can’t stand it_.

Half of him is screaming _‘see, it’s not worth it, **see** ’_ while the other aches for the sweet bright boy he’s lost who reminds him so **_so_** much of his brother in that moment. He wants to reach out and touch Tadashi, smooth his hand against his shoulders, hold his hand again as he cries into his food just like everyone else is. But Kei feels alien sitting at this table as the only member not crying over the loss even though he was on the court for every agonizing second of it, and he can’t even bring himself to nudge Tadashi with his knee or knock elbows with him to just let the slighter teen know that he’s there and it’s okay.

Because it’s not. It’s not okay. And it won’t be. It can’t be.

It hurts when Tadashi doesn’t turn to him for comfort after they’ve finished up their after-game meeting; but it’s only right, because Kei can’t give him what he needs. It’s the first time since elementary school that he can’t be someone strong enough to protect Tadashi, someone who was reliable enough to be someone who could support Tadashi. Because he’s failed, he’s let Tadashi down with his own arrogance and hang-ups; he knows he’s never been the sort of person Tadashi thought he was, but he never thought that the day would come when Tadashi realized that.

He didn’t even realize that he _wants_ to be these things for his friend, and that he’s always tried to be someone good for Tadashi: He’s always looked at what they had as effortless, as something he didn’t _need_ to try at, but it strikes him suddenly that every hour spent searching for songs, every second spent laughing and kissing and making Tadashi’s grin light up his face has _been_ Kei trying, and it wasn’t enough. Just like all that practice— _it wasn’t enough_. It got wrecked by his own selfish stubbornness, and it was so damn easy to wreck it, too.

He’d tried the best he could and they’re still parting ways silently, and it’s his own moment of defeat.

He watches as Tadashi turns and goes his own route home, taking the road to the Shimadamart and Kei can’t say anything to stop him. Tadashi gets the support he needs elsewhere now, and Kei tells himself it doesn’t bother him at all.

He slides his headphones on and lets a single song play on repeat, for maybe the hundredth time. He doesn’t know; he hasn’t kept track and he doesn’t want to. It’s annoying that he keeps going back to the same song, so he tries not to think about it.

_“Telling myself that I can't do anything, I give up on everything;_   
_The only thing I can do right is to indulge myself in my own worthlessness_   
_Immature,_   
_Pathetic…”_

He still can’t look at Tadashi the following morning, both of them silent and sullen as they walk to school. The whole day feels wrong; even though it made no difference to Kei whether they won or lost at the Inter High, he still feels a deep sense of disquiet in sitting in class and not being out on the court. He stares out the window, eyes trained on the faint reflection of Tadashi in the glass, the boy’s disappointment and frustration almost too much to see, even from such a muted and fuzzy image. He’s not sure what he should do, or even if he should do anything at all.

The relief he feels when Tadashi stands from his desk at lunchtime and calls out to him is almost unpleasant, and all he can do is tell Tadashi that he’s too loud, even though it’s so disgustingly reassuring to hear his voice finally, loud and cheerful. They eat lunch like normal, sitting side by side in the hallway, watching people come and go throughout break, swapping food and sarcastic comments about the students around them and things that happened in class.

Tadashi laughs like he usually does, snickers when appropriate, nudges his knee against Kei’s when someone particularly unfortunate walks by, and produces strawberry candies  at the end of their meal like always. When class starts back up, Kei finds he can focus again, can look over at Tadashi during class again and roll his eyes when a student says something particularly stupid. It’s like a cool breeze on a hot day to know that Tadashi isn’t as broken yet as Akiteru was, and is still standing on his feet; that he can still smile and laugh.

After school ends, they go to practice like normal, and already everyone is fired up about the Spring Tournament, like they hadn’t been defeated at all. Frankly, Kei doesn’t understand it at all. He drifts along with their excitement, only thinking about just how much of pain it’s going to be to go away to a training camp to Tokyo. It’s not like they’re going to get anywhere just because they train hard.

At least it’s fun to watch the idiots squirm around about their grades. Well, it _was_ until he got sold out as a tutor. But this is Tadashi teasing him, needling him, and he can’t hate it at all.

It’s all rather amusing until the two idiots try to shoehorn their way into his only remaining free time with Tadashi (not like they would _know_ that’s what they’re doing, because Hinata and Kageyama couldn’t read a mood even if it was spelled out plainly in size 72 font… That is, if there _had_ been moods for them to read, which… there haven’t been since the start of the term, _but that’s **not** the point_ ). The last thing he wants to do is tutor them in stuff they should have learned in elementary school instead of going off and having his normal lunch break with Tadashi. It’s his one remaining hour with Tadashi that’s not sullied with volleyball practice or homework; it’s the one time he can pretend they’re still okay.

He takes no joy in their pissed-off faces; “Please come again during business hours,” he says, looking away and fitting his headphones over his ears. He doesn’t even watch as their faces go from sour and ticked to outright infuriated, because _really_ he told them in the beginning he was only going to do it before and after club, and that break and lunchtimes were off-limits. It’s not _his_ fault they’re too stupid to function, after all. He broods angrily for a few minutes until Tadashi comes back; he slips his headphones off, looking up at Tadashi’s bemusedly amused face. “What?”

“Why didn’t you help them this time?” Tadashi asks, settling himself on the edge of Kei’s desk, store-bought bento in his lap. “You should have seen them,” he laughs, “Stomping down the hall. Hinata called you ‘Stingy-shima’.”

Kei clicks his tongue in irritation, moving his book so Tadashi can have more room to sit.

“They asked me, too, so it must have been important,” Tadashi continues thoughtfully, unwrapping the packaging on the bento. 

“Oi, don’t eat on my desk,” Kei complains, wrinkling his nose. “It’ll get all sticky if you drop something. Just be patient, we’ll go out in a minute.”

“Sorry, Tsukki,” Tadashi laughs, sliding off of Kei’s desk. He sets his bento down and grabs his own desk, hauling it over easily. “Let’s just eat in here, I’m hungry, yeah?”

“So why didn’t you? Help them, that is.”

“Hm? Well, it was an English question,” Tadashi says with a shrug. He offers an onigiri to Kei, who takes it with a frown.

“So?” he asks.

Tadashi pauses, “Well, my English sucks,” he says slowly.

Kei feels his frown deepening, the rice in his mouth sticking to his throat as he swallows. “Not really,” Kei says quietly; “It’s better than theirs, at least.”

“Really?” Tadashi asks, “Ah, well. I guess you have a point. But you’re always saying how my English is awful, and it’s not like we’ve practiced together any at all lately,” he says in an offhand manner before he freezes, face whitening underneath his freckles. “…Sorry, Tsukki! _Ah_ —that makes it sound like it’s your fault—it’s not, I just… I was just… I… _Sorry_.”

 _Oh_.  It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room, or like Tadashi’s just hit him. “No,” Kei says, holding up a hand, “I get it.” So much for being back to normal; everything he was thinking about saying disappears with that one comment—every complaint about lessons, every joke about the idiot duo, even the half-formed notion of asking if Tadashi wanted to study—or even practice volleyball, maybe, he’s that desperate— with him later, all of it is gone. He’d never meant for Tadashi to actually think he was bad at anything; he’d been trying to tease him, to joke with him, to flirt, to get Tadashi to say the words in Japanese.

He shouldn’t try. He can’t. He won’t. Not anymore. He can’t stand to watch their relationship, their friendship crumble around them like this; he doesn’t want to end up sitting in the ruins of it alone and crying. If he were to look in the mirror, he wonders, would it be his face he sees? Or would it be his brother’s?

He’s not sure which would be worse—to be the one who broke someone, or to be the one breaking. Because just like it was his fault that Akiteru had to lie, it’s his fault that Tadashi’s looking like he’s about to throw up. He’s ruined both of them, both of the people he adores the most; he’s ruined them and broken them with his own fumbling attempts at showing love.

“I get it,” he repeats, quieter. He doesn’t have to clarify what he understands, because it’s obvious in that moment that there’s no going back to their English ‘study sessions’, where they sang and lip-synced bad English songs at each other instead of filling out their worksheets, where Kei patiently waited for Tadashi to understand the song he’d found for him, where they held hands and kissed and slept in the same bed because it was more comfortable that way.

Tadashi had decided he wanted more from Kei somewhere between telling him that the way they were was fine and now, and Kei knows it’s just not _him_ that Tadashi wants more from. He’s started wanting things that Kei can’t give him—volleyball, skill, more friends, **_effort_** …

Tadashi laughs uncomfortably and apologizes again, rubbing the back of his neck until it’s pink under his collar, and continues their conversation from the last non-awkward spot. “Anyway, I sent them to the girl who showed up at practice yesterday, Yachi.” He shrugs and moves to take a bite of his lunch, continuing after he’s swallowed. “Since she said she was in class five; in any case, maybe a cute girl can drive the material into their heads better than we can,” he finishes with a small laugh.

“Those idiots? They’re too busy thinking about volleyball to pay attention to things like that,” Kei finds himself saying. He curls his fingers around his headphones as Tadashi laughs and he retreats because he doesn’t know how to continue this conversation.

He’s forgotten how it was when it was easy, when every second spent with Tadashi wasn’t a struggle. He slips the headphones over his ears, music insulating him away from the rest of the world, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the strange look Tadashi’s giving him.

_“Where's the all I have to show_   
_The knowledge that I've never known_   
_The garden that I failed to grow_   
_‘Cause when the wreck is through and it's all consumed_   
_Maybe then, baby, you'll tell me that we didn't cling to enough_   
_That we couldn't outlast the rough…”_

He remembers watching a full lunar eclipse when he was a kid. It started slow, so slow that he barely noticed the moon going dark, until he looked up from the grass he was pulling up at the foot of his sleeping bag to find that it was nearly gone. He cried then, he remembered, because he’d missed so much, and he was afraid that when the darkness swallowed the moon entirely, it would be gone for good.

This is what high school has become for Kei.

Tadashi calls him ‘Tsukki’ as a joke, but sometimes it feels like Tadashi is calling him the moon because Tadashi’s like the tides, ever effected by the pull of the moon on their bodies, but now… Kei feels like everything is eclipsing him, and even the ocean is disrupted despite the moon by the wind and the movement of the earth beneath their waters. He wonders that if the ocean was given a chance, would it choose to be pulled around by the moon? Or would it choose a world where it was warmed by the sun instead? Is that what Tadashi’s doing?

He wonders if they would be any different if he’d chosen differently himself, had he given up this stubborn desire to do what his brother could not all those years ago. He wonders if this is how Akiteru went down, clinging and stubborn and feeling like there was nothing else to do as everyone around him outpaced him, outgrew him, and outperformed him.

_“Falling short again;_   
_I'm falling short again;_   
_The ranges set so high_   
_And I could never climb_   
_Falling_   
_On my own_   
_I've been outgrown…”_

And that’s how it goes for the next month, just like it’s been going: practice that Kei does not care about, classes that Kei doesn’t care about his performance in, as long as he passes, conversations with Tadashi that he _does_ care about, but hold no meaning anymore. The first practice meet comes and goes with nothing to show from it but a team in disarray, irritating little splinter groups spreading out into a disorganized mess of practices that tire him out more than usual because no one wants to do what _works_.

He can’t figure out where they get all that energy, even when they’re standing face-to-face with walls they can’t climb over. Even Tadashi’s at it, practicing with the other non-regulars in the gym, laughing as Hinata joins their team, working until they all look like they’re going to fall over from it, and even after that, he keeps going, splitting off from him to practice his serve with Shimada. It tires him out just to _watch_ and he just can’t keep up with it like he is now.

The second training camp starts with summer break, and Takeda urges them all to approach it in ways that would make them have no regrets, but that’s ridiculous, Kei thinks.

Everyone has regrets. Life is full of them, and his are heavy on his shoulders, pressing down on him and slowing him down until all he can see is his brother with his head in his hands and Tadashi’s trembling after that match with Seijou; the best way to avoid regrets is to have no expectations, he thinks. They’ll all undoubtedly regret every single action they take if they aim for something they can’t get, yet that’s what the entire team is doing.

He’s suffocating under it all: the summer’s heat, the overpowering enthusiasm of his teammates, the repeated games, and overwhelming irritation of watching them all desperately scrambling around each other to try new things when they’re supposed to be playing. Running until he wants to drop into the grass and stop moving. It’s only the first day and he wants to leave. He doesn’t want to go home, no, because he can’t escape the heavy air there either; there’s nothing to do but go along with it, because the only place he could ever breathe was with Tadashi, but Tadashi’s left him behind and become one of those obsessive people who practice until they fall over.

Even so, he gets himself roped into more practice, and if he’d known, he would have practiced with Tadashi (because he _knows_ that it was an invitation to practice with him, but Kei just _can’t_ ), because at least he can _stand_ Tadashi’s presence, and Tadashi wouldn’t, under _any_ conceivable circumstances, bring up the fact that his presence on the court—everyone’s, really—was something replaceable. He wants to scream at Kuroo, that he knows it, **okay** ; he _knows_ that Hinata’s going to stomp all over him—all over _everyone_ one day if they don’t watch out. He knows this better than anyone could even ever imagine.

 _God_ they even wore the same jersey number, how fucked up _is_ that?  He can see it now, the complete set of Tsukishimas knocked down and out by some short genius brat in the number ten jersey. _He can’t stand it._

It makes him so angry to hear what he already knows, that every player’s place is a negotiation between skills and luck, it makes him angry to be told to try by someone who doesn’t even know him, to be told to try, to watch everyone around him digging their fingers desperately into the walls in front of them… Even Tadashi, who _should_ know just as well as Kei does, that in the end it doesn’t matter what any of them do. But Tadashi’s clawing at that wall in front of him just like the rest of them, and this is what he’s been abandoned for, what he’s been left behind for.

It shouldn’t be so easy for Tadashi to leave him behind.

But he did, and he _does_ , and it’s just another failure, another thing that Kei thinks he shouldn’t have bothered trying for. But he refuses to admit that maybe if he had _tried_ for once in his life, maybe it wouldn’t have gotten to this point between them.

But maybe it would have anyway, and it occurs to him if it hurts this much now, then he doesn’t think he could remain standing if he’d tried to keep Tadashi by his side. Maybe at this point it would be easier to just lie down and take it, let Hinata run him down and let himself get replaced, and go down without a fight. He could make it look dignified; make it look like it was on purpose. It’s not like he was Akiteru—he doesn’t have anyone’s adoration to preserve anymore. Tadashi’s is all for show these days, he knows.

He thinks it’s just best if he just lets it all die. Fake an injury, be so nasty that they take him off rotation on purpose, lies down and lets everything run him over. It can’t hurt anymore than it does, and maybe once it’s over and gone, he can breathe again.

It’s not been easy for Tadashi to watch what Kei’s been doing to himself. No one knows Kei like Tadashi does, and that’s okay, because he doesn’t want to share some of the things he knows about the blond, but...

He thinks that their teammates should know the Kei that saved him from bullies, who knew too many dumb facts about dinosaurs, who laughed at bad science puns and always wanted to practice the things he was bad at during the intramural practices in elementary school. They deserve to know _that_ Kei, and not the cold, hard boy he’s become. He thinks they’d love that Kei just as much as Tadashi does. Yeah, okay, Kei’s never been the easiest to get along with (Tadashi still isn’t sure which planets aligned when they met that made it so easy for them to be friends), but he’s never been closed off like he is now.

He’s watched helplessly as Kei walls himself off since the start of term, and he thinks they’re both about to break from the strain of it.

He misses Kei, he _does_. He misses the boy he didn’t doubt, the one who sent him stupid songs and cheered him up and helped him out at practice. They go from being together all the time to two people who just happen to be in close proximity to each other, and Tadashi doesn’t know what to do other than to step back and watch it happen. He was scared of what would happen if he even tried to do something about it, what Kei would say to him, if he’d misunderstood their relationship all along.

Because it hurt, _okay_ , it _hurt_ to hear Kei be a brat about effort when he’s been trying his best, for so long, to make sure they stayed together. He’s tried since the day they met, the day that Kei can only vaguely remember when reminded, to be someone who’s worth Kei’s attentions, just like he’s sure that Akiteru tried hard to be the sort of big brother Kei wanted him to be. But Kei doesn’t care about that, and it makes him mad. Kei doesn’t understand that the effort is where the affection is, not the outcome. It’s frustrating and it hurts, and he thinks he has every right to be mad.

It bothers him, though, to listen to his teammates complain about Kei. They don’t know him, not really, and it makes his stomach turn to listen to them lament over Kei’s lack of effort. They mean well, he knows, because they only want what’s best for the team, and he knows— _he knows!_ —how frustrating it is to watch Kei slink off with the barest minimum of effort while everyone else is still working their asses off. Of course he knows; he’s Kei’s best friend, and he loves Kei the most in the world, so _of course_ he’s been in this position several times before. It’s never been this frustrating, though.

Mostly because he agrees.  

“I know, right! _It’s such a waste_!” Hinata cries, his entire body alight with fierce jealousy and ambition, and it’s the second time that night that someone’s said that. And he just can’t stand by and let them say that about Kei, because nothing about him is a waste. Nothing at all.

Tadashi swallows and curls his fingers into his towel. Kei’s stuck, and everyone’s noticing and he’s just so afraid that Kei’s going to fall apart on him. He thinks of Akiteru, falling to pieces under the strain, and he wonders if fragility is hereditary, if both brothers are so easy to break, and it terrifies him. He thinks of Kageyama crumbling under the weight of his own past, and Yachi’s nervous self-consciousness and how Hinata knew just what to do to cheer them up.  “Um, Hinata,” he starts, “What would you say to Tsukki, the way he is now?”

He swallows nervously as Hinata looks at him blankly. “You know? Like those times with Kageyama and Yachi-san,” he stammers in clarification.

It’s like Hinata punches him with his quick, flat answer: “I wouldn’t say anything.”  The shock must have shown on his face, because Hinata sighs and continues, “I mean, I don’t even know if he _wants_ to play volleyball. If someone doesn’t want to play, telling them to do it isn’t gonna make a difference.”

Hinata continues on in frustration, but Tadashi’s only half listening. Did Kei want to play? He thinks for a minute, knowing the answer. “Tsukki probably doesn’t dislike volleyball,” he murmurs over Hinata. A fond feeling stirs in his chest, the one that was only ever reserved for Kei when he was being awkward and unsure. “If he did, he wouldn’t have come to Karasuno,” he says knowingly, a smile creeping across his face. He wouldn’t still be playing. He’d have quit weeks ago, or stopped the second that Akiteru did. Kei is awkward, and he is fumbling, but it gives him a bit of hope.

“What about you?” Hinata asks him, “What would _you_ say to him?”

Tadashi feels silly then, because it’s so obvious—even if Hinata _had_ something to say to Kei, it wouldn’t matter. Because Hinata is a threat, the second coming of the player who had sealed Akiteru’s fate; no, it was so obvious, and he feels stupid for not realizing it sooner. Whatever words that Kei needed to hear needed to come from someone who _knew_ him.

They need to come from Tadashi. It doesn’t take much thought to realize what needs to be said, either. The words that shook him down all those years ago, the same thoughts he knew Kei held towards himself. He just hopes that it won’t crash and burn around them; and even if it does, he thinks, it’s not like they have much of a relationship anymore to ruin.

And that’s how he ends up actually yelling at Kei for the first time, _ever_.

**“ _The way you’ve been lately is really pathetic!_ ” **

Tadashi’s yelling at him, and he’s bringing up everything, everything that he’s never even touched before. Kei cannot believe it, and it’s so startling. It’s like Tadashi’s words are like a lighthouse in the dead of night, cutting through every dark thought he’s had these past few months. He’s not sure if he agrees with Tadashi, not yet, but it’s enough to make him want to try to seek out his own answers for the first time.

And that’s enough, because Kei swears he can see Tadashi grin to himself as he turns and leaves Kei to the whims of Kuroo and Bokuto. He wants to think _‘traitor’_ and ‘ _don’t leave me with these morons_ ’ but he knows better, knows that this is something Tadashi’s left him to do on his own, so he lets himself get dragged into another practice game. He knows that being alone to figure things out isn’t necessarily being left behind.

He returns back to their dorms after the game and a shower, tired and feeling lighter than he had in months. He settles onto his futon, and scoops up his iPod from under his pillow.

Kei’s not sure when Tadashi’s had the time to do this (during the game? his shower?), but when he turns it on for the night, there’s a new playlist on it, labeled, ‘just remember what I said’. He looks around the room, trying to find Tadashi to make eye-contact with to see what the heck this was about, but Tadashi can’t be found, and Kei figures it’s because he’s still in the bath or out in the halls chatting with the other teams. He plugs in his headphones and slips them on, the sounds of his teammates getting ready for bed muffled instantly.

He starts up the playlist, sitting cross-legged on his futon. He closes his eyes, more to block out the sight of his teammates than to concentrate.

Some of the songs he recognizes as ones they listened to back in junior high, or even elementary school. There’s one of the first songs Tadashi ever traded with him as a conversation rather than just a song he liked, and it shocks him how their roles have reversed. He remembers thinking just of Tadashi when he heard the song first, and the chorus made him think of himself, with its questions, but now… it’s reversed. When had it gotten this bad?

_“Regardless of whether you’re happy or not,_   
_The sun rises just as cruelly on all of us,_   
_I’m at my limit just living each day as it is,_   
_What more do you even expect of me?_

_Why do you keep so many things in your chest?_   
_Do you want to be loved?_   
_But who was it that gave up first?_   
_Have you realized it yet?”_

He thinks it’s kind of harsh for Tadashi to include a song with something like that in it, but it pleases him in a strange way that Tadashi cares enough to not pull a single punch with him. It’s more affection than he thought he was worth, and more care than he thought Tadashi would spare on him.

As he listens, he realizes that Tadashi’s been building this list for longer than just tonight, and this was just a culmination of all the things that Tadashi’s been holding back for so long. There are even songs that he thinks Tadashi’s been holding onto since they went to that game back in elementary school. It’s not just songs Tadashi’s been collecting, he knows. He’d been holding back for a long time, and it aches to think about.

He keeps listening as the rest of the team calms down around him. Tadashi pads into the room, towel around his neck as he talks with Sugawara; they part ways and head to their own futons, and Kei looks up as Tadashi settles into his spot next to him.

Tadashi smiles shyly, cheeks pink as he leans forward and braces himself against his knees. Kei raises an eyebrow and taps his headphones, and he can see, if not hear, Tadashi laugh at him. Tadashi leans forward and scoops up Kei’s iPod from its perch on the blond’s knee. He unlocks it, fingers keying in the pass code, and he checks what song Kei’s on.

_“But it’s not what you want that matters—_   
_It's what you want more_   
_So go on, lie to yourself but don’t lie to me…”_

It’s something in English, which makes Kei remember the conversation they had earlier in the term, and his heart hurts thinking about it, because it’s shameful to admit that, until that point, he’d never really sat and thought about how he’s impacted Tadashi or vice versa, only that Tadashi was always _there_. He’d done the same thing to Tadashi that he did to Akiteru, and he’s starting to fervently hope he didn’t wreck Tadashi like he thinks he has.

_“And there’s the door_   
_You can quit right now, up and leave;_   
_You don't need this anymore—_   
_Yeah tonight, lights out, shut it down …”_

Tadashi looks up at him from the iPod, his face thoughtful and Kei has to swallow back the tightness in his throat. Since when has Tadashi been this ruthless with him? He’s so used to being coddled.

_“Or you can_   
_Open up your broken heart,_   
_And keep on wanting:_   
_Fallen saints and fallen stars_   
_They don't mean nothing …”_

He takes the device from Tadashi, hitting pause before tucking his headphones down around his neck. He stands and jerks his head towards the door; it doesn’t matter that he’s exhausted from the day’s training and the extra practice he got roped into. It doesn’t matter that it’s hot and sticky and that all of their teammates are looking at them with mild intrigue as they settle down for the night.

It’s not enough that they’ve leveled themselves to equals about issues on the court now; Kei needs to know where they stand as friends and more. He’s got to settle this, and he has to do it _now_ , before this newfound feeling of possibility fades from him. Before he broods on the possibilities of what he’s done to Tadashi’s heart and talks himself out of trying to fix it. Before he gets himself lost again.

Tadashi easily raises himself onto his feet and trots after Kei, waving good-naturedly at other players as they moved down the hallways to sit outside. Kei can’t believe how friendly Tadashi is with all of them; it’s strange to think that he doesn’t have a monopoly on Tadashi’s easy going amity.  Crickets chirp and cicadas who haven’t quite realized its nighttime hum in the muggy air; they can hear someone shouting in the hallways, feet pounding up and down the linoleum floors.

“There’s still more songs on the list, you know,” Tadashi says, leaning back up against the building wall. He draws his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them as he hugs his legs, watching Kei curiously.

“Yeah, well.”

“You should listen to them,” Tadashi answers. “If you want to…?”

“I do,” Kei replies, looking away from Tadashi. He’s only just now realized just how much Tadashi has to say to him; he wants to hear it all, but… He wants to hear it, not through song, but through Tadashi himself.  “About tonight…”

Tadashi shrugs, “There’s not much more to say,” he laughs. “What happens next is up to you, Tsukki.”

“We’ve already proven that leaving decisions up to me hasn’t gone very well,” Kei says dryly, earning another laugh from Tadashi, the sound bubbling out over the night air. Like always, it’s infectious, and Kei catches himself smiling as he looked over at Tadashi. “So what now?”

“You just have to keep trying,” Tadashi said, “It’s like, sometimes I want to give up when my serve doesn’t go well. But then I remember that match against Seijou and I realize just how badly I want to prove to them, to _myself_ , that I can do better. You’ve got that in you, too.”

Kei gives Tadashi a hard look and shakes his head. “I’m not talking about volleyball,” he murmurs.

Tadashi flushes and hugs his legs tighter to his chest. “Oh,” he says quietly. “ _Oh_. Well…That’s...It’s the same, though isn’t it?” He nods a bit at the iPod in Kei’s hands. “I’ve been… I’ve been trying to think of things to say to you about _that_ for a while. You can listen…”

“That’s easy,” Kei replies. “I mean, it’s easy to do that, right?”

“It is,” Tadashi says, nodding. He swallows, trying to figure out what Kei means. “Isn’t that why we started that?”

“Yeah,” Kei agrees. “It was hard to talk sometimes.”

“It was.”

“It still is,” Kei adds softly. He thinks about all the thoughts that had been circling in his head that Tadashi had torn away earlier that night. He thinks about how maybe he needs to start trying a little harder at everything, and if how if he wants to hear the words in person, that maybe… Tadashi wants the same thing too. He pauses, and tries to find his voice; “I miss you, Tadashi.”

“I’m right here,” Tadashi answers, voice strangled. “I’ve always been here.”

“I forgot,” Kei says simply, watching as Tadashi’s lip trembles and his shoulders shake. “Sorry. I thought you were through with me.”

Tadashi shakes his head. “Not yet, no. I was mad, but… I miss you too. Lots, you know?”

Kei reaches out and slides his fingers against Tadashi’s cheek before cupping his hand against the curve of the slighter teen’s jaw. He leans forward and kisses Tadashi softly. He rolls his thumb against the other boy’s cheek, brushing away the dampness gathering on Tadashi’s cheeks. “I won’t forget again.”

“I’ll remind you if you do,” Tadashi whispers.”I’ll keep you in line.”

Kei snorts. “I’d like to see you try,” he retorts with a smirk. But he doesn’t doubt it, because if tonight was anything to go by, Tadashi’s gotten brave when he wasn’t looking. Hell, Tadashi might even serve a ball into his face like Kageyama’s been bitching about wanting to do since day one—he wouldn’t put it past Tadashi anymore.

He decides he won’t put _anything at all_ past Tadashi—he can do it. All of it, it doesn’t matter what: Kei decides that Tadashi can and will do it. Tadashi’s felt that way about him for a long time, probably since they met; Kei thinks it’s time to return the favor. He stands and dusts his shorts off, holding out a hand for Tadashi.

Tadashi takes his hand and smiles at Kei in such a way that they both know it’ll be okay. And if it ends up not being all right, they’ll just work through it, Kei thinks. It can’t be any worse than before.

After that, they crash back into their old musical routine, and Kei realizes just how badly he’d messed up by letting it go by the wayside. He understands just how much he’d missed Tadashi sneaking bubblegum pop into his playlists so he’d get hit full-force with synthesizers and over-played lyrics in the middle of a composition, or keeping up with which anime Tadashi’s watching by what theme song singles he’s stuck onto the iPod.

He’d forgotten that music wasn’t _his_ thing, and it hadn’t been for a long time—it was something that was _theirs_ , the way that they shared themselves with the other, and by halting that, it was like cutting out the tongue of their relationship. It hadn’t mattered that they’d had that stupid fight, in the end—what had mattered was that Kei pulled himself away from everything because he was afraid of messing up.

Tadashi’s happy that not only has Kei started sharing again, he’s gotten over the funk he’d been trying to shake Kei from for years. He gets to hear songs that he hasn’t heard since elementary school, ones he knows that were Akiteru’s favorites way back when. Kei tells him quietly that he’s spoken with his brother, and Tadashi nearly cries because since that night before their third year in junior high, he knows that Kei hides away from his brother. He gets lyrics texted to him, with attached songs that he itches to open during class, during the lull periods between volleyball games, during practice itself, in the middle of the night.

They pick up the pieces around them, one by one, and start walking forward. Kei sneaks his hand into Tadashi’s as they walk to and from school, on the bus ride home from Tokyo, during lunch breaks. Tadashi goes to Kei’s house after practicing his serves now, so they can spend more time in private.

_“And it hurts like hell  
To be torn apart…” _

Kei’s voice against his ear brings Tadashi out of his thoughts and he groans at the sound of it, reaching up to tangle his hand into Kei’s hair. He’s glad that Kei’s not trying to sing anymore, because he would just lose it entirely, and he really doesn’t want to break the mood by giggling. They’ve worked damn hard to get to this point again.

They mouth the words to songs against each other’s mouths as they kiss and as they touch and relearn the shapes of each other’s bodies, lyrics interspersed with real words as they slip under the sheets and against each other. They laugh when a completely inappropriate song comes on, bubblegum-sweet candy pop following dark, brooding foreign rock and a hand down each other’s pants, enjoying the sounds of their voices against the music.

Word by word, sound by sound, they build the lyrics to their own personal songs together.

**Author's Note:**

> Song List (in order of use, including repeats):  
> Hum Along- Ludo  
> Torn Apart- Bastille, GRADES  
> Hello/How Are You- Shounen-T version  
> Bittersweet- Panic! At the Disco  
> Edge- HAIM  
> Native Tongue- Paramore  
> All About Us- He is We, Owl City  
> Comforting Sounds- Mew  
> Discommunication- Himawari version  
> Collapse- Vancouver Sleep Clinic  
> Hello/How Are You- Shounen-T  
> Keep on Wanting- The Fray  
> Torn Apart- Bastille, GRADES  
> (And because I'm a huge dweeb [here](http://8tracks.com/bluecoloreddreams/hum-along) have them as a playlist)


End file.
